Glory In Gilden Lies
by Serpentine13
Summary: Gilderoy Lockhart travels to Armenia with the intention of carrying out a loathsome scheme that will help pave his way to fame. One-shot.


**Glory In Gilden Lies**

 **AN: This is my submission for Pride of Portree's 7th Round in the QLFC on the Wolfsbane Potion. My prompts include: (word) raindrops, (word) revenge, and (color) olive. Special thanks to Moka-girl, corvusdraconis, Story Please, Luxurien, and Roselina4389 for the support and motivation through my struggles during Round 7 and for the delightful enhancements and edits to this story.**

* * *

Gilderoy Lockhart's cheery mood had just been turned a tad sour. Only a few hours previous, he had picked up the Portkey he had arranged to use through the British Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately, the price for the Portkey was being forced to endure some old classmate's yammering on about their success in the Department of Mysteries.

The Portkey would transport him to Armenia where he had found an old wizard, Geghard Yeretz, who had taken part in a dueling competition hosted in Istanbul, Turkey in the 1920s. The man was disqualified over some nonsense of breaking the rules by attempting to use a spell considered too lethal, which suited Lockhart just fine as this told him the old duellist had some skill and daring that would be quite handy. Crouching down he grabbed the frayed length of rope that had been crafted into an inconspicuous Portkey and disappeared.

Reappearing at the Kecharis Monastery in Armenia in a flash of light, he landed on his face in the grass outside. "Urmph!" he grunted into the grass.

A chuckle reached his ears. "You are Meester Lokehart?" asked a heavily accented voice in amused surprise. Lockhart noticed he rolled his r's of his name in a manner that made his name sound strangely exotic.

Gilderoy scrambled up, immediately straightening his robes and regaining his composure with a customary smile before saying, "Indeed, indeed and it's 'Lock-hart'. Gilderoy Lockhart," he repeated, looking over the foreign man's attire whilst brushing off his own. ' _Brown and_ _olive_? Rather shabby-looking fellow,' he thought. Looking around he noted Tsaghkadzor appeared to be a rural settlement. He'd expected a small town.

Turning back to his greeter, "I am here to recruit Geghard Yeretz to help me track a werewolf that I believe has fled to this region recently. Rest assured that I will handle defeating the beast myself," Gilderoy said in a grave tone.

The greeter eyed this Englishman and his green smudged nose and forehead doubtfully and muttered something in his native tongue before saying sarcastically "Velcome to Armenia, 'Hunter' Lokehart," waving a hand West towards the forest and the mountains beyond. "Geghard Yeretz lives in solitude, not far from the non-magicals' Alva Hotel. I can apparate us there, but you vill valk the rest of the vay." Impatience lined his tone.

"Smashing! Smashing," Gilderoy cheerfully stated. He hastily grabbed onto the Armenian's shoulder, discreetly drawing his wand before they popped away.

The two wizards reappeared on a roadside across from a muggle building in a cluster of trees. "Charming… forest, I'm sure. Where to from here?" Lockhart asked his temporary escort.

"Thirty minute valk north from here, follow the path" he said, pointing dismissively at a dirt trail leading into the forest and began to turn away.

Lockhart raised his wand to the wizard and casually erased the man's memory with a simple " _Obliviate_."

* * *

Walking down a dusty little road that lead from the main road he'd been apparated to, Gilderoy came upon a small, homely house in a clearing. He nervously approached and knocked on the threshold.

After a few seconds, the doorknob turned and the door itself opened inward. Lockhart prepared his most charming smile, only to struggle to hold it when he was faced with an intimidating, old man who seemed to wear a well practiced frown.

'Dear Merlin, those pockmarks are horrid,' he thought to himself. Gilderoy's smile became rather strained. "Ah, you must be Geghard Yeretz, yes?"

The Armenian frowned further in confusion as well as impatience at the foreign language, but slowly nodded upon hearing his name.

"Excellent, excellent! I am Gilderoy Lockhart," he said with an extravagant bow. "You seem to be getting on in your years old chap! Not to worry though, not to worry, you couldn't be in safer hands," he babbled. "Might we have a spot of tea before we dispense with the unpleasantries?" He made a drinking motion.

The confused Geghard only stared at him. Gilderoy cleared throat and fiddled with the collar of his vest, it felt little tight all of the sudden. Finally after a few moments of silence the old man shook his head and beckoned Lockhart inside. However, as the man started to face away from the entrance Gilderoy whipped his out and whispered " _Imperio_!"

Geghard instantly stiffened before going completely relaxed and turning to face his new master. Gilderoy smiled giddily at the slightly glazed expression in the former duelist's eyes. ' _I thought this would be slightly difficult, but of course even a man with some experience in dueling and an inclination towards darker magic, it doesn't make them immune. Not to mention he'd be up against me_ ,' he thought feeling rather chuffed. Gilderoy might not have much experience in dueling, but he did have a gift for using subtler spells.

Walking into Yeretz's abode, Lockhart commanded his puppet "I'd like that tea now, unless you've got some scotch hidden away. Our future certainly calls for a toast." He knew he didn't have to verbally give orders, but he loved the sound of his own voice, and being in control of someone else only made it even more profound. Unfortunately there was no scotch to be had, so tea it was. "Extra sugar, my good man."

Lockhart had his host make a request to have another two Portkeys made to take them to a muggle village outside the Dilijan forest in the northeast of Armenia and back to Yeretz's home. The werewolf Lockhart had in mind is in fact a woman by the name of Vivien who had left oppressive, wizarding Britain to Armenia, where she'd be unknown and could make a life for herself. That was the information Gilderoy had been able to glean from his affiliates with the Dark Force Defence League. The bumbling twits would one day realize how superior Gilderoy Lockhart truly is.

* * *

The raindrops drizzled outside as the last bit of daylight dimmed to night. Vivian had been preparing for the full moon for a week now, as was usual when one intends on taking the Wolfsbane Potion. Its recent invention by a man named Damocles was a worldwide blessing to all those afflicted by the lycanthropic disease. Of course, like most potions, it tasted like something awful. She guzzled it down, shivering in complete distaste and inhaling some of the faint blue smoke that wafted from the thick liquid, before slamming the mug back down on the table with a cough. The brief moments of horrible aftertaste and swallowing the unpleasant mixture once every day for 7 days before the full moon was worth having control over her human mind for the night of the transformation. 'Just one more night,' she thought to herself absently, flipping her braided brown hair back over her shoulder.

It was the next day after buying ten slabs of steak between several vendors at the small market area that she saw two new faces walking down the slightly muddy gravel road. They were quite the clashing pair, the golden-haired one being rather well dressed, good looking, and obviously peevish about something.

' _Probably the idea of walking through any kind of mud_ ,' Vivian judged by the man's comically awkward steps as he searched and determined his next best step.

The other just trudged along with a blank, pockmarked face in black robes. That was one thing they had in common, as different in color and style as their apparel was, it marked them both as wizards. At this, Vivian immediately ducked her head down in an attempt to seem inconspicuous.

* * *

The Portkey had taken the contrasting duo outside of the town in order to avoid garnering Muggle attention. Lockhart only had to memory charm one, which gave him some small satisfaction, such as one gets when completing a duty. That satisfaction was wiped away when he realized that the road they would be traversing into town on was still damp with a thin layer of mud atop gravel.

"Blasted Muggles can't even pave all their roads or walkways! I mean look at my boots! They're ruined," Gilderoy cried indignantly at Geghard, waving one foot towards him.

Geghard stared silently awaiting instruction.

"You know, you could try to be at least a little understanding of my hardships..." Gilderoy muttered at him.

The _Imperioused_ Armenian immediately made a face of outrageous concern and started gesturing almost exaggeratingly at Lockhart's foot and proceeded to conjure an ornate golden carpet in front of them. It was his turn to stare, mouth slightly agape. When Geghard began to pull off his own boots to offer to Lockhart, Gilderoy snapped out of it and said, "No, no, no, enough! Let us just find this Vivian so I can go back to sweet British pavement." He sighed, a little exasperated.

As they trekked towards what appeared to be the marketplace with Gilderoy still bemoaning his clothes' increasingly sorry state, Geghard grunted and jabbed a finger at Lockhart, who was balancing awkwardly in mid-step towards more favorable footing.

"Wha-ah-ah," Lockhart began to exclaim. He twisted towards Geghard, his arms flailing as he fell backwards, reaching out to clutch at the other man's black robes. Gilderoy dragged his companion with him. "Nooo-oof!"

People stared before breaking into laughter and pointing at the spectacle.

Gilderoy, with his newly dirtied, formerly colorful cloak, just stared at the cloudy sky in shock for a minute until the world stopped spinning. ' _I, Gilderoy Lockhart, am going to enjoy erasing this day's memory from all of you_ ,' thinking fanciful thoughts of revenge against all these foreign pests. He held back a sniffle, before sending a mental command to Geghard to stand and help him up, at once.

After having Geghard _scougify_ his clothing. Gilderoy lead them into a small pub to get a drink of anything using his unwilling friend's limited funds and to ask the bartender about a foreign woman named Vivian.

After much gesturing and failed attempts to communicate, Lockhart had Yeretz do the questioning and relay the information back to him with the _Imperious'_ link to get a general understanding of the conversation. He found she lived beyond the treeline outside of the village in her own cottage. He would wait till dusk before setting his big scene into motion.

* * *

After escaping notice, Vivian made it to her cottage, locking the door behind herself and sighing in relief. She made it a point to avoid witches and wizards. They weren't all prejudiced, but the majority of Wizarding populace of Britain were. If the clearly British, blond man had a problem with a little dirt on his boots he probably have an even greater problem with a "contagious, dark creature" too.

She took her newly purchased meat into the hidden, warded cellar where she would be staying for the night of her transformation just in case someone came around or her brewing proved faulty in some way. The wards on the cellar's ceiling and entrance would keep her in and there was a ward for keeping all sound within from reaching beyond the cellar itself. She pointed her wand at the dry wood in the fireplace, " _Incendio_ ," she said in soft tone. Vivian often watched the flames dance in their vibrant shades of orange and yellow while in her beastly form before dozing off to sleep.

Vivian climbed back upstairs. It was six o'clock, night was encroaching and the moon would become prominent soon. She walked over to her small potions cache and withdrew the last draught of Wolfsbane Potion, upending the cup's loathsome contents down her throat. As she was closing the cabinet there was a knock at her door. Her heart constricted in panic and Vivian briefly stared at the entryway, mouthing, ' _Crap._ ' She swiftly yet stealthily made towards the basement's trapdoor, hearing another thunderous beat.

* * *

Gilderoy and Geghard had their wands out, approaching the quaint little cottage. Lockhart was beginning to get cold feet, he'd never actually killed before… ' _It's a bloody werewolf and Geghard will technically be doing the slaying anyway_ ,' he thought to himself, shoving his moral conscience to the side. Geghard was knocking, rather harshly at this point. No one was going to open up, clearly.

"Alright Geghard, blast it open, find the monster and kill it," he ordered. It sounded quite simple, ' _I suppose the deed itself may be less enchanting than the telling..._ ' He'd just wait outside, in case any witnesses showed up you know? Geghard used _Bombarda_ and sprang inside. It was quiet—no snarling or shouting—just silence.

' _That's a mite bit eerie..._ ' He stepped lightly over to the small porch and looked through the obliterated threshold. Geghard stood looking around determinedly, but there was no sign of the creature. ' _Something's not right here..._ ' Gilderoy's nervousness sang nervously.

It had to be here! The house was still lit, there was smoke coming out of the chimney… ' _Wait,_ ' he thought in realization. ' _Where's the fire?_ '

There wasn't a fireplace underneath the chimney.

' _Underground_?!' Gilderoy's eyes widened in understanding. A secret basement to contain the beast!

"Geghard, look for a hidden hatch in the floor!"

Geghard began firing off detection spells and they began indicating a barely noticeable outline in the floor beneath a table.

Gilderoy grinned before he remembered he was after a werewolf, not some scared, defenceless Muggle. He swallowed, thickly and said "Open it, Geghard."

Gilderoy began backing away in self preservation as Geghard started wrenching on the hatch's small grip. Just like the door though, it too gave resistance. Geghard threw a few curses at it to no effect. Wards? Fortification from the outside too?

Gilderoy, puzzling over this new and latest barrier to his future glory as a hero to the masses in Britain, came upon an inspiration. ' _The chimney? I'm no bleeding Santa…_ '

"Burn it," he whispered.

" _Satana Kr-"_ Geghard began in Armenian, before being summarily punched in the face by a horrified Lockhart, who had mentally received his unhinged puppet's idea vividly.

"You potty GIT! Not _fiendfyre_!" Lockhart screamed. He did NOT want to tempt fate and test such a hard-to-control spell by having it cast in his vicinity by someone under the Imperious bloody Curse. He himself even had trouble with it, not that he'd cast it before, but that's beside the point. "Just try to burn through the hatch will you?" Geghard let loose a continuous stream of flames at it and it caught easily enough, so he didn't let up. Soon they had a large, charred hole in the floor and Geghard's flamethrowing spell ended and he jumped in, "I believe I have broken the man's rationality…" Gilderoy muttered looking at the hole. Then the snarling began.

The snarling was menacing. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck. There were some flashes of light and a grunt then the creature leaped out. It was quite the unnatural thing able to walk on two legs, but its hunched back and tilted neck made running on four limbs quite doable. Lockhart stared in fascinated horror and forgot all about his other Portkey in his pocket. His death was looking at him with rage when all of sudden a dark, nearly corporeal black scythe sliced through the floor.

It seemed Geghard was not yet out of the fight, the ugly, old psycho. The dark magic had sheared off some the flesh from the creature's arm. A close call, but not close enough sadly. It roared and leaped away from the devastated floor, and Geghard propelled out next, landing firmly on his feet. He then charged, sending a barrage of spells at the monster, which attempted to dodge the incoming spellfire. Unfortunately for her, Geghard had predicted the reaction and widened the area of his attacks.

Lockhart, during the next and visible round, had sought refuge behind the white cushy sofa and was blindly calling out stunners with his hand aimed over the back. It was bravery at its finest.

The werewolf, while not dismembered, suffered a few broken limbs and an arm, as well as a number of lacerations over its fur. It was downed and breathing heavily.

Geghard stepped forward to finish it off.

"Wait! That's my part to play!" exclaimed Lockhart, despicably. He brought himself up and swaggered around the sofa feeling smug. He looked down on his defeated prey and she raised her face to look at him, there was fear in those eyes now. The eyes were yellow like a wolf's but the intelligence behind them, the understanding of every word being spoken, confirmed the human underneath the monstrous appearance.

Gilderoy felt as though he had conquered a nation, and all it had taken was compelling some washed out, old wizard and whose abilities were heightened by Gilderoy's _Imperious_ Curse.

"You know, in many muggle stories the beast is really a good person. They end up going free or living 'happily ever after'."

The werewolf gave a piteous whimper, her eyes all but beseeching to be allowed to live.

Gilderoy sighed, as if in sadness. "This isn't that kind of story is it, my dear? Not everyone gets what they want in life, I fear. I, however, do."

* * *

Gilderoy Lockhart Releases New Book:

 **Wanderings With Werewolves**

Renowned hero and author, Gilderoy Lockhart, will be at the bookstore _Flourish and Blotts_ to sign any and all copies of his newest and greatest book to date! Come join us as we celebrate his adventures defeating the murderous werewolf plaguing a small village in Armenia!


End file.
